PS 103^ 




s 



}nt 



3^ 




s 



^1 



NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 



*■•! 



B7\HER'3 tDITIoNl 
or PL7\Y3 1 




^i^ 




In the Nick of Time 



PS 1039 
X .P694 




. COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & 



plays for /Amateur St^eatrieals. 

BV CEORCO 7^. BMKER. 

Author of ^'^ Am'tte7tr Dramas.'''' '■'The Mimic Sta^e" ^'The Social Stage" "The Drniving^ 
Koom Siage^" ^'^ Handy Dramas" " The Exhibition Dramas" "A Baker's Dozen" etc. 

Titles in this Type are New Plays. 

Titles in thttt 'Aype are leinperance Plays, 



DRAMAS. 

Jn Four Ads, 
Better than Gold. 7 male, 4 female 
char. ......•• ,..*23 

J)i Three Acts. 

Our Follcs. 6 male, s female cliar. . 15 

The Flower «if the Famil). 5 
male, 3 female cliar 15 

Eniistkp fok the War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
male char. . . . , 15 

My Krotimjr's Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

TIh' JAttif. Itrown tTttf/. 5 male, 3 
female char .....15 

/« T7V0 Acts. 
AboTe the Cioud^. 7 male, 3 female 



char. 



15 
One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 

4 female char >S 

Amonc; the Bkeakers. 6 male, 4 female 

char. 15 

Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 female 



chj 



Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 

char. . . • 15 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 15 

The JLast Loft f. 5 male, 3 female char. 15 

InOfteAct. 
.stand by the Flac;, 5 male char. . . 15 
riic Tempter . 3 male, i female char. 15 

COMEDIES AND FARCES. 

A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 

male, 3 female char 15 

Pad<lle Your Own Canoe. 7 male 

3 female char 15 

A. Jit'op too Mncli. 4 male, i. female 

char '. . . . 15 

A Little move Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male. 6 

female char 15 

Never "^ay Dip. 3 male, 3 female char. 15 
'";EeiNG the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 

char. 15 

The I^osTON Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 15 
The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
male char 15 

Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 

4 male, 3 female char 15 

fTe're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- 
male char »5 

Male Characters Only. 

A Close Shave, ft char »5 

A Public Rfnefactor. 6 char. ... 15 
A Se/» of Troubles. 8 char. .... 15 



COMEDIES, etc., continued. 

Male Characters Only. 
A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . . 
Coals OF Fire. 6 char. . . . » . . 
Freedom of the Hress. S char. . . . 
Shall <»nr Mother** Vot*;? 11 char. 
Gentlemen OF THK Jury. 12 char. . . 
Humors OF the Strike. 8 char. . . . 
My Uncle the Captain. 6 char. . . . 
New Mrooms Sweep Clean. 6 cliar. 

The Creat Elixir. 9 char 

I'hic Hypochondriac. 3 char 

llie Man tvith the Ifeinljohn. 4 

char 

The Runaways. 4 char 

The '1'hief ofTime. 6 char 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char... . . 

Female Characters Only. 
A Love of a Uonnet. 5 char 



A Precious Pickle. 6 char. 

No Cure No Pay. 7 char. . ' . . . . 

The Champion of Her Sex. 8 char. 
The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. 
The Gkecian Bend. 7 char. . . . . 

The Red Chignon. 6 char. . . . . . 

Using the Weed. 7 cliar 



all; 



A rrangedfor Music and Tableaux, 
Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 



char. 



Thk Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 



:har 



The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe* 
male char 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- 
male char 

The War of the Roses. 8 female char. 
The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. . 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea, t male, i female 

Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 
I female char 

Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet 
Restored. 3 male, i female char. 

Santa Claus' Frolics 

Snow-bound; or, Alokzo the Brave. 
AND the Fair Imocene. 3 male, i 
female char. 

The Merky Christmas of the Old 
Woman who Livei> in a Shoe. . . . 

The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male 
char 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. Numerous male and female char. 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. 

The Visions of Freedom, ii female 
char 



WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 23 Winter St„ Boston. 



IN THE NICK OF TIME 



a Serto=Comic ©rama in STfjree ^cts 



BY 

ALEXANDER STREETER ARNOLD 

; t 
AUTHOR OF "henry LOVELL," "CINDERELLA CARLETON," "FORTUNES AND 
MISFORTUNES OF JACK GREEN," ETC. 



tV (^ SEP -2 1892 

BOSTON 
1892 



4 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

(Nancy opetis the door a?td ushers in Abnkr, Conrad, David, 
and Miner, armed with guns, etc.) 

Nancy. Come right in, gentlemen, all of you. We keep open 
house to-night. 

Kitty. Ye.s ; walk right in, gentlemen. Plenty of room for a 
hearty welcome. 

Abner {aside, glancing at Kitty). Kitty Mason, as I live! 
How changed ! Yet she can be no other than Kitty. So changed, 
and yet how the old love takes possession of every fibre of my 
being. Can it be possible, when I thought the old passion had died 
out long ago ? Love ! love ! Is it not rather desire for revenge .'' 

Conrad. We're rough-looking customers, but honest as the 
day is long. Going for the gold-fields, some fifteen or twenty miles 
away we hear. Don't be afraid of us ; but give us supper and 
breakfast, and we will tramp. We will pay you, for we're honest. 
Sort of rough diamonds, or diamonds in the rough. 

i^As the conversation goes on the men dispose of a?'fns, etc., and 
take seats.) 

Nancy. Make yourselves at home, gentlemen. Supper is for- 
tunately nearly ready now. 

Miner. Yes ; and to-morrow for the gold-fields. Lots of the 
yellow dust, we hear. 

Nancy. So says Dame Rumor. And were I a man how quickly 
would 1 start for that field. But I'm only a woman. 

Miner. That need not stand in the way. ' I mean your sex 
should prove no barrier to riches. Why, my dear young lady, I 
will — you ; I — I — 

Nancy. Sir! 

Miner. Now don't! pray don't! Upon the honor of a true 
knight-errant I meant no harm. Excuse me, Miss — Miss — 

Nancy. You make a miss or two of it. 

Miner. And as you are also a miss, there's a good miss for 
both you and me. 

Nancy. Well, I must say that you make yourself wonderfully 
at home for a perfect stranger. 

Miner. Excuse me. Miss Norton, I've some good qualities ; 
but I make no pretensions to perfection by any means. 

Nancy {aside). I wonder how the wretch caught my name. 
But I do believe I like the rascal after all. {Aioud.) You're 
quite right, Mr. — Mr. — 

Miner. Did not quite catch my name. {Aside.) But she's 
caught me. Looks just as she did when we made mud pies to- 
gether. Well, I've made a mash. Smitten as well as myself. 
Miner, you're in luck, and I congratulate you most heartily! 
Splendid young lady ! {Aloud.) Have you caught my name yet ? 

Nancy. Certainly I have. You're a miner, are you not? 

Miner. You are a witch. No, no! I beg pardon — a fairy; for 
Miner is my name. How easily you guessed it. Did you not say 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 5 

that supper was ready ? And shall I have the honor and the pleas- 
ure ? {JLxtends his a7'7n.) 

Nancy. Sir ! how dare you ? 

Miner. Now don't! please don't, Miss Norton ; for you know 
I meant no oftence. Heaven forbid that I should ever be guilty of 
insulting the most degraded woman on earth, much less a lady like 
yourself. But lead the way to the supper-table ; for we are hungry 
as bears. 

{All leave the room except Abner a7id Kitty.) 

Abner. Kitty Mason ! 

Kitty. Heavens ! how you startled me! 

Abner. At last we meet, and you are in my power. 

Kitty. In your power! What do you mean, Abner Mills ? for 
now I recognize you. Why, surely you can bear no malice against 
me. I never willingly wronged you. If 1 have it was wholly 
unintentional. 

Abner. Never wronged me 1 Two years ago you refused nriy 
hand in marriage. Yes; and when I was half crazed through the 
loss of my sister. The very next day you accepted Lionel Forrest. 
But don't forget that you are not yet married. 

Kitty. Yes ; but I never meant to be unkind. Had I even 
dreamed that you would so take my refusal to heart I should most 
certainly have postponed my acceptance of Lionel until you and I 
could meet as firm friends. I thought your great unhappiness 
caused by your only sister's sudden death, coupled with that of 
Mollie Brown, whom I always thought you loved instead of me. 

Abner. If vou thought that why not have aided me? But 
instead you left' me to continually brood over the wreck of my hap- 
piness, and curse fate which mercilessly threw that Lionel Forrest 
in my path to block up my way to happiness. Just as I had won 
you he appeared. Curse him ! His death or your hand must end 
this drama. 

Kitty. O Abner, you cannot mean what you say. Your 
heart is too kind, too generous. 

Abner. I had such a heart before I lost my sister and you re- 
fused me ; but it is now harder than adamant. There are two 
paths for you to choose. Remember that you are now in my 
power. 

Kitty. No, sir; I am not in your power. Your very compan- 
ions would not permit you to harm me, had I no others to pro- 
tect me. , . , . , 

Abner. Don't flatter yourself by counting on their being the 
defenders of any forlorn damsels. They are neither Don Quixotes 
nor Ivanhoes, but simply my tools for any, yes, any work of mine ; 
not champions of injured innocence, but my instruments. 

Kitty. Then heaven help me ; for I will never consent to be 
yours. . 

Abner. Ah, my pretty dear, I see that I must use torce. Know 



6 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

also that Lionel is at the gold-fields ; and I am now on my way 

thither to take his life. No law but might there. 

Kitty. What! has it come to this? Such threats to me, sir? 
You have wiped out the deserving of pity. Quit my presence at 
once or I must leave you. I v/ill not consent that we breathe the 
same atmosphere. 

Abner. Don't think to escape me, my pretty miss. After this 
reception a douple revenge will alone suffice. Yourself and his 
life may pay the forfeit. And now one kiss to set an appetite for 
supper. 

Kitty. Don't you dare pollute me with so much as a touch. 

Abner. Endeavoring to frighten Abner Mills ! {Laughs.) 
Well, that is rich, I must say. Tragedy queen ! Come, Kitty, 
you're too old for that. You're no longer a child ; so bow grace- 
fully to the inevitable. 

{A struggle here ensues for the kiss, in the midst of which Sol- 
omon Stokes enters, simply utters the word " Period," as he 
brings his rifle to bear on Abner, who starts back. Tableau, 
Kitty exit, and the next tnoment enter David, Conrad, Miner, 
and Nancy. Solomon lowers his rifle?) 

Abner. Nothing but a poor joke ; nothing more, I assure you. 

Solomon. Not a nary excuse more, stranger. So if you will 
overlook my tarnal rudeness in pinting that ere shooter at your 
mug, we'll call it square. You may cut me up into sasengers if I 
wa'n't the least bit riled. It goes agin my grain to see female inner- 
cence and vartu trod on. Why, you might just as well tread on 
the tail of the American Eagle in my presence. Long may she 
wave ! 

David. Ha! ha! ha! {Any smile, laugh or chuckle that 
conies most jiatural.) I guess you'll tnke the cake. 

Sol. {turnijio to David). Tm thinking that I kinder sorter like 
you. That's sponge cake frosted with taffy. 

David. A little taffy, now and then, is relished by the best of 
men. Were you born around here, Pvlr. Stokes? 

Sol. Not to any great extent. Born mostly on Seekonk Plain, 
if my memory serves me right ; but my native place is Providence. 

David (smiling). Sure of it? 

Sol. Well, I was there and ought to know. But where did ye 
say ye was headed for, strangers ? 

David. For the gold-fields, after the dust, of course. 

Sol. Well, gold is not a quarter as plenty as it used ter was ; 
but there's lots left. Look out for the Injuns. I tell you they are 
considerable numerous. 

David. What, Indians plenty yet? 

Sol. Thick as pigs at Brighton ; and they are so tarnal thick 
that every other man you meet is a hog. 

David. Ha! ha! ha! Used to kill half a dozen Indians some 
days, I suppose. 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 7 

Sol. Half dozen ! Shot eitjhteen of them varmints one day 
before breakfast. Tell ye how 'twas, neighbors. Ye see, we had 
piled up a lot of dry grass for our horses ; and one morning I went 
out to get a handful to start the fire, hay instead of shavings, you 
know. When I got within a rod I seed some dark things leaning 
agin the stack. I smelt a mice at once, and just bent my gun barrel 
by pulling at both ends with the middle agin a tree. Then I just 
walks up to the haystack, where there was nothing leaning agin it, 
kneeled, and fired over my head. Jerusalem ! you ought "to heard 
the Injuns yell like forty-leven catamounts. You see, there was 
eighteen Injuns leaning agin the stack, waiting in ambush for us, 
sound asleep. Well, that rifle ball went clear round the stack, and 
just cleaned off eighteen noses. Didn't hold the gun nigh enough 
to the stack ye see. But didn't make no odds ; for I had in nigh 
onto ten fingers of powder, and that ball whizzed round agin just as 
the Injuns were dodging their heads forward fur enough to let day- 
light through every one of them ere varmints' noddles. True as a 
speech in Congress. Hope to be sent to Jericho if it ain't. 

David. Ha! ha! ha! 

Sol. What remark was ye making? 

David. I didn't say anything. 

Sol. Oh, I thought ye asked if there was force enough to send 
the ball- through all their noddles ; and I was going to say that it 
went with such force that if it hadn't flattened agin my gun barrel 
it would have busted me up in business, sure as you're born. 

David. Ha! ha!- ha! Grand climate I hear ; salubrious ! 

Sol. Salubrious ? Why, hot ain't no name for it. So tarnal 
hot that Jed Appleby — you know Jed. 

David. Can't say as I do. 

Sol. What ! don't know Jed Appleby, son of old Deacon 
Appleby ? Where've you lived all your life ? Never on Seekonk 
Plain ? 

David. Never visited that city. 

Sol. Why, 'tain't a city. It's part of a town. Don't seem as 
if you'd travelled much. Well, Jed went home just as an awful 
cold snap came on, and he did nothing but shake and shiver from 
morning till night ; nearly shook his hair oflf. Shivered so that 
half his teeth fell out, and he couldn't keep his coat on without 
being tied on ter him with a hard knot. Fact, by gracious ! 

David. Ha ! ha ! ha ! You don't say so ? 

Sol. One night they made his bed on a red-hot stove ; and 
'twa'n't ten minutes 'fore he asked his father, the deacon, to bring 
in a buffalo robe to spread over him. True as you set there. 

David. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh, of course it's true. 

Sol. Been down in Maine, of course ? 

David. Not one of us. 

Sol. Jerusalum ! Your mams and dads must er kept ye mighty 
close. Never saw the thermometer forty degrees below freeze on a 
three-weeks stretch .'' 



8 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

David.- Never did. 

Sol. Well, I have, neighbor. Lumbering on the Andrew Scog- 
gin River. Bars thicker'n muskeeters, and full as hungry. Stole 
our provisions. Bought twenty-four watch-dogs. Bars didn't 
trouble us much till it got so cold that the thermometer froze up 
and busted. More'n a hundred degrees below freezo. Fact ! I vow 
ter gracious if 'twa'n't. Uogs had barked half the time every night. 
Woke up that night and not even a whine. Reconnoitred a little, 
and found twenty-four dogs froze stiff. Hope ter die if they wa'n't 
froze solid. I made up a rousing fire, and laid the whole pack all 
around it. 'Twa'n't two minutes 'fore one barked, and in ten more 
the whole twenty-four growled and barked enough to wake the 
seven sleepers. Vact! True as ever a man stuck an axe in ter a 
tree. 

David. Don't doubt it in the least. 

Sol. Don't ask you to believe me. Only ask them lumbermen ; 
that's all. 

David. Oh, we don't doubt your story one single particle. 

Sol. Of course you don't. If you did, I wouldn't condescend 
to explain. Fact on't was, the barks froze righ.t in the dogs' throats, 
and when we thawed 'em out they barked like Jehosaphat. 

David. Ha! ha! ha! A very reasonable explanation. 

Sol. Nothing goes again' my grain worse'n falseliood." Hope 
to die, it what I tell you wa'n't facts. Every word, I vow to gra- 
cious. 

David. Ha! ha! ha! All your utterances bear the impress 
of truth. 

Sol. But come, neighbor ; you and I ain't been to supper. 
(Solomon and AnyiKR move towards door.) From the day I was 
so year old {puts his haiid on level with his knee) my parents 
instilled into my mind the principles of truth ; and George Wash- 
ington and his little hatchet has been the subject of my deepest 
meditations. Let innercence be your guiding star, and truth your 
e piuribus wium ! 

{Exeiint Abner and Solomon.) 

David. Ha! ha! ha! He beats all the live Yankees I ever 
saw. 

{Exeunt David and Conrad. Enter Kitty Mason.) 

Kitty, Nancy, a word with you. But pray don't leave, Mr. 
Miner. I shall detain Miss Norton but a moment. 

Miner. Excuse me a moment. Couldn't stay away unless 
compelled to. {Aside.) I wonder what she is up to. 

Kitty. Thank you ! And you will confer a favor by making 
yourself entirely at home. But where is my friend, Mr. Stokes. 

Miner. Off with Abner Mills. About as thick as three in a 
bed. Why, you were really frightened and run like a hare. Left 
without so much as thanking your gallant preserver. I am a shade 
puzzled ; for unhappy and cold as an iceberg as he certainly is, 
Abner Mills was never known to do a mean act. But I am sure of 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 9 

one thing ; your Yankee is a first-class fraud. Lies like all the 
Cretans. {Exit.') 

Kitty. And so Abner has caught my very preserver. Well, 
villainy will contaminate and corrupt a whole community while 
goodness is tr3ing to make one soul moral. 

Nancy. Oh, I'm sure, Kitty, it is not quite so bad as all that. 
True, falsehood may mount and run a mile while truth is fixing 
her saddle ; yet there's always a smash-up before the final goal is 
reached ; but truth is not found in the debris, but at the stand 
where the laurel wreath is waiting for the victor. 

Kitty. Original! You ought to turn preacher or reformer. 
But I tell you there is danger. Oh, believe me, Nancy, there was 
not the slightest fun, but a method and earnestness, in Abner's 
madness that bodes ruin to me. And in heaven's name I ask you 
to aid me. Were all my fears wholly groundless, precaution could 
not harm us. 

Nancy. To hear is to obey. Speak and it is done ; for wise 
precaution is never out of place. 

Kitty. Mr. Miner is not bad-looking: agreeable. 

Nancy. Oh, passable, perhaps. 

Kitty. But he is quite good-looking, and seems honest and 
above-board. 

Nancy. If you think him good-looking, let it go so ; but you 
know tastes differ. But what has that to do with your safety ? 
Surely he is no villain ! 

Kitty (aside). She's smitten, by all the rules of love. Well, 
so much the better. (Aloud.) I want you to encourage the atten- 
tions of Mr. Miner. Our only hope, my only refuge, seems to 
centre in winning these men. Remember that you are working 
for my sake, and I shall never forget it. Bear in mind also that 
although there are undoubtedly as good fish in the sea as ever 
were caught, there are schools of fish who never will be taken even 
with a drag-net. Don't forget that a fine little trout landed on 
terra Jirnia is worth forty large salmon swimming in the river. 
And now depending on you, I go to seek NeUie Bly. 

(Exit Kitty Mason. Enter Miner.) 

Miner. All alone ? 

Nancy. Why, yes, I believe Miss Mason has deserted us. But 
I suppose your companions will return from supper in a moment or 
two. 

Miner (aside). O ho ! a little anxious as well as myself. 
Well, I thought as much, if not more. She's just my style. O 
Miner, you're a lucky dog. Now just go in and win. (Aloud.) 
Miss Mason took the hint, I guess. Don't you think you and I 
are sufficient company for the present ? 

Nancy. Well, you see — I — I think — that is to say, I mean 
that — that — 



lO IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

Miner. Decidedly so ! That's just my opinion exactly. 

Nancy {aside). I wonder what he means. He appears very 
uneasy as well as myself, and quizzing me too. 

Miner {aside). Well, here we are alone together, and just the 
situation I have so longed for ; and yet I would almost stake my 
very life that I allow the golden opportunity to pass unimproved, 
and the prize will slip through my fingers. If a faint heart never 
won a fair lady, Tm a defeated man. My mouth seems to cleave 
to the tongue of my right hand — I mean that my tongue seems to 
cleave to the roof of my mouth. I'm like too many soldiers — very 
brave, oh, awful courageous wlien they snuff the battle afar off; but 
in a contest, hand to hand, — yes, Im after her hand. But according 
to the present state of my own physical constitution, I should judge 
that popping the question was very unconstitutional. However, 
when a man's constitution is^ gone, he must live on the by-laws. 
So here goes without regard to race, color, or previous condition of 
servitude. {Aloud, after taking a long breath.) Miss Norton, I 
have something in particular I wish to say to you, and that is, see- 
ing that we are alone, I would like to — to — embrace — embrace 
you — I mean — 

Nancy. Sir! do you mean to — to — 

Miner {rjpidly). No, no, no, no. I don't mean to — to — to 
— to — I mean embrace the opportunity, seeing we are alone. 

Nancy. Oh ! 

Miner. But I'm just like the fast horse my uncle gave me : 
only one thing prevents his making his mile in three minutes. 

Naxxy. And what is that ? 

Mixer. Distance too great for the time. I've such a lot to say, 
and so little time in which to say it. Then I'm sick too. 

Nancy. I'm very sorry. Are you quite sick ? 

Miner. Yes ; got the heart disease. Beats like a Irip-hammer. 
Awful palpitation of the heart. {Aside.) Well, let her palp ; for 
I must go in and win, or some one will come in, and I shall be like 
the convict who broke jail. Sha'n't quite finish my sentence. 
{Aloud.) Miss Norton, I'm not in the right condition to scatter 
the flowers of rhetoric over the* garden of my remarks ; but will 
you marry me ? Pardon my abruptness, but please don't refuse 
me. I — I — I — I — I — love you. There, as the man said about 
the pulled tooth, that's the best thing out. Now you won't refuse 
me, will you? 

Nancy. But suppose I should refuse you ? 

Miner. Why, then I'll — I'll — yes, I'll discard you. And I 
would discard any girl that gave me the mitten. But I love you. 

Nancy. Love me? Why, love is like the fellowship among 
the religious denominations — a drop of love to a gallon of secta- 
rian stew. 

Miner. No, no ; not so ! Love, like the ocean, rolls on forever. 
As Daniel Webster said the first time he ascended Mt. Washing- 
ton, the clouds — the — the clouds — the — 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. II 

Nancy. Yes ; that is a cloudy subject. A little light on the 
question seems appropriate. Can you support a wife ? 

Miner. Certainly I can. I'm not like a balloon, without any 
visible means of support. My uncle was a grocer ; and he left me 
the fortune he made in a small way. 

Nancy. Left you the scales in which the small weigh was 
made .'' 

Miner. Oh, come, come, Nancy ; don't tantalize me any more, 
but say yes. And have you forgotten the times when we made 
mud. pies together.? And don't you remember how fond you were 
of my apples and pears and cherries. And you certainly recollect 
how nearly I came to breaking my neck when I was trying to get 
you some chestnuts. But we had the chestnuts all the same. Yes ; 
we are old chestnuts. 

Nancy. What ! are you my little Miner ? 

Miner. No ! I'm your big Miner. Now you won't refuse me. 
You can't, you know. Come, say yes at once. 

Nancy. You must give me time to think. Marriage, as you 
well know, is a very serious matter. 

Miner. Yes ; any one can tell that by looking at the bald- 
headed husbands in (ftamz'ng the locality). Immense amount of 
hair squandered in family disputes. But if you marry me, you'll 
not be in the condition of old farmer Littlesouls' wife. He says, 
" when I married my wife, she hadn't a rag to her back, but now 
she's covered with 'em." Come now, how much longer must I 
tease and entreat you? Some one will walk in in a minute and cut 
us both off in the prime of life. Don't keep me longer in expense 
— I mean suspense. Come, let's get in a rage next Sabbath. 

Nancy. Get in a rage ? 

Miner. Yes; mar-riage! (^Extends his hand.) Your hand, 
Nancy, your hand. 

Nancy. And what can you want with my hand ? 

Miner. Keep it. So handy to have another hand in the house. 
Why, don't you remember how I drove off the cow that was trying 
to hook you when you wore that little red cape ? And then while I 
was helping you across the big brook, I went in all over, and you 
fished me out and called me your pond-shiner. 

Nancy. But you are no longer a shiner. You're a whale. 

MIxNER. Yes, and I'll whale the first man that lays any claim to 
you ; whale him so there'll be plenty of blubber. And don't forget 
that we engaged ourselves to each other the very day we saved 
each other from the cow and the pond. And — 1 hear some one. 
Your hand. {ExteJids his hand.) 

Nancy. Yes, it is Kitty Mason's step. 

(Miner takes Nancy's hand; puts thumb of other hand in his 
vest arm-hole^ tips back and whistles or hums a tujie as Kitty 
Mason enters.) 

Kitty. Please, sir, if you please- — 

Miner. Yes ; many thanks for your salutations. I am well pleased, 



12 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

exceedingly well pleased ; in fact, I can truly say, and express but a 
mere tithe of my happiness, that I was never before half as well 
pleased as I am at tliis supreme moment. 

Kitty. Then allow me to congratulate you, and that most cor- 
dially. 

Miner. A thcrusand thanks ! And don't forget to congratulate 
Miss Norton likewise. 

Kitty. With all my heart. {Kisses N^^ncy.) 

Miner. Oh, aggravation! Why did you not ask me to do the 
• saluting business.'* Allow me to show you just how it should be 
done. You shall be the witness of this case in court. 

Kitty. No, thank you ; time for me to leave. {Exit.) 

Miner. Casein court — I should say courting case without a 
witness. 

Nancy. No, sir. Not on such short acquaintance. It isn't at 
all proper, you know. {Holds her hands before her face.) 

Mm'EK {taking both of NAtiCY^S ha7tds). Short acquaintance? 
We are no shorter than other people. Not proper 1 No ; kiss, 
buss, smack, and salute are common nouns. {Is about to kiss 
Nancy, when David enters?) 

David. Oh, don't mind me. I have not only noticed nothing 
that is going on, but I haven't the slightest suspicion of anything 
that is going on. I'm so nearly deaf and my eyes are so poor, that 
I can't distinguish a little smack from a seventy-four gun ship. 
(Miner and Nancy rise.) 

Miner. Good on your head, David. The first time I ever 
heard you talk sensible nonsense in the presence of a lady. Miss 
Norton, allow me to present my bachelor friend, David Jones. My 
affianced bride, Mr. Jones. And you know the rules of etiquette in 
saluting 2^ fiancee. Always the right cheek. Where you kiss the 
left cheek, you get left, nothing but left cheek. What, tearing your- 
self away, so quickly .? (^;r/i David.) He's all left. 

Nancy. I thought him a friend of yours. Whatever is the matter? 

Miner. Too cheeky subject. One of the most bashful old 
bachelors I ever met. Wants to leave his property to some girl, 
but hardly dares to speak with one. I wish some young lady, 
worthy of such good fortune, would propose to become his adopted 
daughter, and with sufficient tact and courage to make the sclieme 
a grand success. He's seventy, rich, good-natured, and a monoma- 
niac on this one subject ; and the scheme would pay every way. 
And, Nancy, do you know what the old widower said when his pas- 
tor remarked that the church embraced nearly four times as many 
ladies as gentlemen ? 

Nancy. No. What was it ? 

Miner. Why, he said there was four times as much fun in em- 
l3racing ladies. And I believe he was right. And now that no one 
is near, I'll take that kiss out of which I was so shamefully cheated. 

(Miner extends his arms towards Nancy, but looks aronnd to 
see that 7io one is tiear, when David again enters, Nancy sees 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 13 

hhn and exit. David takes her place and is clasped in the arms of 
Miner, tuJio, taking in the situation, looks disgusted, luhile David 
slowly breaks into ^a latigh, a?id exclaims, " The regular old [fnen- 
tion some familiar locality^ ^^^K^-') 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

Scene. -- The same as in Act I. Abner and Conrad walk in as 
Kitty enters. 

Conrad. The Yankee is gone, bag and baggage. Went to his 
room, which is vacant. I'm sure I heard him leave the house. 

{Exit?^ , . . ' 

Abner. Good ! Kitty Mason, you are in ray power this time at 
all events. But it is not too late to make me your best friend. Be 
ray wife and all will be well, Seeing that you cannot help yourself, 
why not yield gracefully to raanifest destiny ? 

Kitty. Well, I will consent, seeing there is no help for it. And 
now that I do consent, and so readily, be a man and leave me until 
we settle matters to-morrow. 

Abner {advancing). Are you really sincere ? If so, I shall be 
very lenient. {Aside.) I believe it's a ruse to gain time. 

Kitty. Thanks for your promise. But how is this ? What do 
you mean ? I warn you to keep your proper distance. 

Abner. Well, seeing that you are to becorae my wife, I will be 
liberal. Only seal the compact with the kiss which that infernal 
Yankee cheated me out of. Again, I say, submit to manifest des- 
tiny ; for I cannot trust you wiUiout that seal attached to the bar- 

Kitty. Then you will not be merciful ? You will insist upon 
that foolish pledge ? , r • •* 

Abner. I must insist ; but only as a pledge of your sincerity. 
I will be as reasonable and raerciful as circumstances will perrait. 
But certainly this single seal of the compact is neither unreasonable 
nor unmerciful. {Kv,^y.-^ advances?^ Submit! I command you to 
submit! You are in my power. , . , t j-j . c 

Kitty. Then listen to the whole sentence which 1 did not tin- 
ish. I consent, I most willingly and gladly consent, to be your — 
yes, Abner, your, and only your mortal enemy for life. 

(Kitty attemps to flee, but is caught by Abner, when Orlando 
Augustus ejiters ; Abner turns, still holding the arm ^/" Kitty.) 

Orlando {raising his eye-s^lasses). Aw, beg pardon for the in- 
terwuption. Quite a scwimmage, I declare ! Wegular Donny- 
bwook fight. Aw, I bet — stake, I should say — my money -aw 
— on - on the young female. Wegular Joan of Arc — aw, perfect 
Maid of Sawagossa in calico. 



14 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

Abner. Your impertinence, sir, is ill-timed, and only equalled by 
the shallowness of your pate. 

Orlando {raising eye-glass). Aw, perfect tio^er ! Wegular 
catamount ! Aw, go on with the scwimmage ; don't let me inter- 
wupt you. I alter my bet. Aw, this time I stake one and sixpence 
on the fewocious male party in the contest. Aw, weally believe he 
would conquer the young woman unless the Maid of Sawagossa is 
weinforced. I do, 'pon honor. 

Abner. Impertinent puppy, vacate this room ! If in one minute 
you do not make yourself scarce, I'll break every bone in your body. 
Away ! I say, away ! 

Orlando. Why, what a disagweable fellow ! Aw, now, do be 
weasonable I can't go, because I must stay all night. Aw, spoil 
my new clothes, all that sort of thing, you know, to sleep out of 
doors. Take cold, too. I weally should, 'pon honor. 

Abner. This is too much. Villain ! rascal ! fool ! Go ! go ! 
I say. 

Orlando. Aw, fewocious as a Modoc Indian. Aw, forgot you 
were standing in the presence of Orlando Augustus, who — aw — 
never permits any one to couple dewogatory adjectives with his 
Chwistian cognomen. He weally don't, 'pon honor. 

Abner. And pray, you villainous puppy, what do you do.-^ 

Orlando. Aw, I call them out — aw — duel ; all that sort of 
thing, you know. Beneath my dignity to fight with a clodhopper; 
but — aw — sink my pride and challenge you. I do weally, 'pon 
honor. 

Abner. I accept. Do you hear, sir ? Accept at once. Ap- 
point a funeral, and I'll furnish the corpse. 

Orlando. Aw, getting weasonable ; you weally are. Aw, I 
appoint a funeral. Your funeral, you know, aw — you furnish the 
corpse. {Eye-glass.) Poorer than number five mackewel ; but 
better than none at all. Aw, give me gweat pleasure to attend. 
Pwospect of gweat happiness in store. Aw, quite a gala day; all 
that sort of thing, you know. 

Abner. Impudent puppy, did you ever fire a pistol ? 

Orlando {drawing a pistol). Aw, weally, now, if the lady will 
permit, I will show you your certain fate ; I weally will, to oblige 
you. You see that spool on that frame in the corner ? Aw, I place 
myself here at the opposite corner and pick it off just as 1 shall pick 
you off. I weally will, 'pon honor. 

(ORLANDoyfrd'j', and the spool drops. Spool can be made to fall 
by a thread attached to it.) 

Orlando. You furnish the corpse ; all that sort of thing, you 
know. If the lady does not object, settle it now. Aw, not been to 
supper ; set a good appetite ; always does when I shoot a clodhop- 
per. Aw, I mean a cowardly mule who lays violent hands on a 
lady. 

Abner {aside). What can I do.'* Sure death to fight with pis- 
tols. {Alond.) I never fight with pistols ; and as I am the chal- 
lenged party, I choose swords, or what is just as well, clubs. 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 1 5 

Orlando. Aw, clubs twumps. Happy to accommodate you. 
Gweat pleasure ; all that sort of thing, you know. As you supply 
the corpse, you can furnish any kind you choose. Sorry the corpse 
will be black and blue from head to foot ; but I can't be wesponsi- 
ble for the wesult. I weally can't, you know, 'pon honor. 

Kitty {breaks from Abner, and springs to the side of Or- 
lando). Protect me ! protect me ! Save me from that vile 
monster, and I will bless you forever. 

{A^T^'ER steps forward to sectwe YiiTTYy wheft Orlando raises 
his pistol and Abner steps back.) 

Orlando. Aw, must insist. Very unhealthy to meddle with 
ladies in my pwesence. It weally is, 'pon honor. 

Abner. By what right do you interfere between this lady and 
myself? 

Orlando. Every lady is — aw — under my pwotection who 
has no other pwotector. {Eye-glass.) Perfect gazelle in cahco ; 
fvvightened fawn ! She weally is, 'pon honor. 

Abner {aside). I am foiled at every turn. If I call Conrad, I 
shall be shot. Miner has found his Nancy Norton at last, and 
I might as well reckon him on the other side. Reckoning the two 
.women, the forces are about equal. If this puppy presses me to 
fight, I can probably beat him with clubs, as we have no swords. 
Stratagem, however, is my best game, after all the parties have re- 
tired for the night. 

Orlando. Allow me to suggest — aw — pwopose that you we- 
tire from these wough scenes, Miss Gazelle in calico. This cwea- 
ture, whose big bwavery only wises to the sublime and lofty height 
of fwightening timid females and timid stwiplings, shall not harm a 
hair of your head. West easy while the Honowable Orlando Augus- 
tus is near to pwotect the fwightened fawn. Twust me that after 
our duel he will be in the pitiable condition of a sick kitten longing 
for a hot soapstone to lean against, and the attentions of a sympa- 
thetic nurse. He weally will, 'pon honor. 

Abner. Curse your vile tongue ! Bring on the clubs ! 

{OR'LA'i^DO escorts YiiTTY from the room. ABisiKR paces the stage.) 

Abner. I must try to frighten that puppy. I have a great mind 
to murder the aggravating dude; but that won't do by a long shot. 
I wonder what infernal spirit threw Kitty in my way to revive again 
that passion I imagined dead and buried months ago. Why in 
heaven's name am I tempted more than flesh and blood can stand .'' 
Why do I not flee from this house, instead of remaining in the very 
jaws of a temptation that has almost spoiled me of what manhood 
and decency I had left ? I see the way of escape, yet persistently 
face my doom ; for success itself would prove my worst Waterloo 
of defeat. I realize fully that in a certain sense I alone am to 
blame ; yet I rush to my fate. An hour longer, and I believe I 
could murder both Kitty and Lionel in my insane folly. Only some 
kind providence can save me. An hour ago, had some one so 



l6 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

much as hinted that I would have sunk so low, I should have re- 
plied, "Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?" I 
could have borne one burden ; but to lose both my intended wife 
and my sister ! yes, it was too mighty to be borne. I yield to 
manifest destiny. Where is that contemptible puppy ? Come on ! 
Delay another moment, and I take my oath to murder you ! Ah ! 
here you come, sir ! Do you know that I have murdered three men 
in duels ? 

OKi^Ai^Tio{re-ente)itig). Aw, must have been appwentices. Pwe- 
pare to die. Are you weady to furnish the, aw, bwused weed of a 
corpse '^ {Hands one club to Abner.) 

Abner. Hark you! My name is Abner Mills. You have cer- 
tainly heard of the hero of a hundred duels ! 

Orlando. Aw, I do wecall an Abner who, in the time of King 
David, was slain by the mighty Joab. I am the modern Joab to 
slay the pwesent Abner. 1 wealiy am, 'pon honor. 

Abner. Curse your impudence ! Are you ready t 

Orlando. Only waiting till you gather a little courage to meet 
your fate. A tvvifle impatient to knock a hole in your pate, but give 
you a moment of life to accommodate; all that sort of thing, you 
know. I wealiy do, 'pon honor, 

Abner. Oh, let's fight and have done with this baby talk ! 

(Abner and Orlando adva7ice,femt, fight. Orlando's club 
is knocked from his hand.) 

Abner. Well, my pretty little Joab, Abner is still ahve. Prom- 
ise to leave this house, or die. Go, and I will spare you. 

Orlando. Aw, I couldn't think of it ; 'pon honor, I wealiy 
could not. 

Abner. Another instant and I will break your skull ! 

(Abner, seemingly about to strike., puts club over his shoidder to 
get a longer swing, when Orlando suddeiily sp7'ings forward, 
grasps the club behind, and wrenches it from Abner's grasp, 
savings it aroimd his head, etc., when he is grasped behind by Con- 
rad, who has cautiously entered^ 

Conrad. Shall I kill the dude ? 

Abner. No, no, no ; for heaven's sake, no ! Tie his hands. 

Conrad. Just as you say ; but I think the safest way for us is 
to get rid of him. 

Abner. That's just the way never to get rid of him till we hang 
for it, unless we are shot, lynched, or put in prison before it comes 
to that. No, don't even harm the brainless idiot, but bind and gag 
him till we leave. 

(Abner and Conrad drag off Orlando. Eiiter Nancy, 
Miner, and Nellie Bly.) 

Miner. I've caught it ! I've caught it! 
Nancy. Cau-iht what? the measles, or a rabbit? 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. I7 

Miner. A fox, by jingo ! Excuse me, ladies ; 'tis not often I 
swear, but I ccfuldn't help it ; I've got just the plan. 

Nancy. What is it ? 

Miner. Oh ! how I do like to excite curiosity ! 

Nellie. Well, you have succeeded to a shaving. What is it .'* 
What is it ? 

Nancy. Yes, yes ; what is it? 

Miner. Well, I have told you all about our rich old bachelor, 
David Jones, with his mortal fear of all womankind, and that this 
very day he expressed his great regret that he had not only neither 
sister nor niece, but not even a very young female acquaintance to 
whom he would like to leave his property. And yet he is deter- 
mined to will his property to a young lady. He is a monomaniac 
on that subject. Now, all he needs is my indorsement and a little 
coaxing ; yes, a little judicious coaxing. Now, Miss Bly, — 

Nellie. Nellie, if you please. 

Miner. And now. Miss Nellie, it's St. Valentine's Day, leap 
year. See.'* Behold? Catch on? Perceive any hole in a ladder? 
And are you gazing between the rounds of said ladder at the mag- 
nificent scenery ? 

Nellie. Yes ; I discern an immense landscape, beautiful beyond 
compare. I see my victim. I behold a very bashful old bachelor 
ready to run at the first fire. He needs cultivating. All he requires 
is judicious cultivation. I will be the cultivator. Not hearts, but 
spades are trumps. I hold the spade. In a word, I am the 
granger; and I make hay while the sun shines. I open the spring 
work by springing my agricultural plan. He resists ; endeavors to 
defend himself; attempts to make a retrograde movement. I head 
him off. He surrenders at discretion. I compel him to accept me 
as his proteo;ee, or daughter. He becomes my adopted father or 
protector. i3oth are highly elated. Grand finale! I, who never 
knew a father, find one. Here the fountain plays ; band strikes 
up. Happy all round. Red lights. Tableau. 

Miner {clapping his haiids, in which NAiSiCY Joins). Bravo! 
bravo ! Hail to the daughter of the granger who in triumph ad- 
vances upon the old fortress of Bachelor's Hall ! Success awaits 
us. And how fortunate ! Hush ! here he comes like a lamb to 
the slaughter, or as a bird into the snare of tlie fowler. {Enter 
David.) Ladies, allow me to present my friend David Jones. 
Mr. Jones, my affianced bride and former playmate, Miss Nancy 
Norton ; and Miss Norton's most intimate friend. Miss Nelly 
Bly ; small in bulk, yet great in purity, innocence, goodness, and 
worth, and armed with a true maidenly courage not born of St. 
Valentine's Day, nor leap year, but for all occasions ; equalled by 
few, excelled by none. 

David {greatly co^ifnsed ) . Yes — yes — happy — yes, very 
happy to meet you. I don't remember being more overwhelmed 
with — with — {Aside.) What shall I say ? Oh ! for a lodge in 
some vast wilderness, where rumor of successful and unsuccessful 



1 8 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

wrfmen might never reach me more ! No chance to run ! Why 
don't the earth open and swallow me up ? {Alouif.) Ladies and 
women, most happy to — to — 

Nellie. To see us, especially me. I knew you would be. 

David. Oh, of course I am, very — yes; especially — No, I 
mean particularly yourself. I think I never met one I detested — 
no, I so emphatically persisted in taking a fancy to as I do to — 
to — 

Nellie. To me ; and I'm so glad ; for I have taken a particular 
strong liking for you. And I would so love to shake hands with 
you, Mr, Jones ! {Extends her hajtd.) 

David. Oh, certainly, by all means ; nothing so charming as to 
— to — {Hands Nellie his hat.) If there is one thing more 
than another I fairly dote on, it is shaking hands. {Aside.) I'm 
sweating at every pore. I could stand it if that infernal Miner and 
his true-love were not ready to die widi suppressed laughter. I'll 
strangle that Mirier before I'm twenty years older! 

Miner. Excuse Miss Norton and me ; we have a particular 
engagement to meet Miss Mason. {Exeunt Miner a7id Nancy.) 

David {aside). And leave me helpless and alone with a female 
girl ? Not if I've been introduced to myself. Fire and brimstone ! 
if I haven't handed her my hat instead of shaking hands with her! 
{Aloud.) My dear — dear — oh, dear — I mean, could you spare 
me my hat a moment while I call on a sick neighbor that I prom- 
ised to visit. I'm awful — I mean very kind to the sick and 
afflicted; I am very; and I must call, you know, because — 
because — 

Nellie {aside). Well, this beats all my sisters and my cousins 
and my aunts ! But I've promised, and he shall not escape me. 
{Aloud.) Why, Mr. Jones, you forget that you are not within a 
hundred miles of your home. Now please be seated a moment or 
two, for I have something in particular to say to you ; and weVe not 
a moment to lose. Somebody will be here in a moment and inter- 
rupt our little t&te-a-tete. 

{Y>kN\T> sinks helplessly i7ito a chair. Nellie draws her chair 
very close. David moves off, while Nellie draws her chair 
closer.) 

Nellie. Now, Mr. Jones, you have a large, roomy, handsome, 
but lonesome dwelling; and you need a girl, or a young lady like 
me, for a companion. Now just imagine yourself as captain and 
me as chief mate ; and how nice that would be ! 

David. Oh, delightful ! perfectly lovely ! — I mean — mean — 
{Aside.) The girl is either making love to me, or else she's mak- 
ing game of my gray hairs. Blow me, if I'll stand it ! Brace up, 
David! Brace up, you rich old bachelor! Here goes! Who's 
afraid? {Aloud.) I say. Miss Nellie, I'm a very stern man. I 
have an awful habit of swearing, that I fear would be extremely un- 
pleasant to you. Happy! oh, very happy to secure you ; but my 
drinking habits would soon wear you out. Why, I have no hesita- 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. I9 

tion in saying that in less than six months I should bring down 
your gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. Oh ! I could not think of 
accepting your proposal, however flattering and delightful on my 
part. It pains me to say so, but I'm not fit for you. Pm not cross 
to-night, but I am horrible every time I go on a spree. No, I 
couldn't think of making you unhappy. I have a wonderful admira- 
tion for you. My love is very strong, but for your sake I must 
refuse you. You can't help seeing what an unhappy union ours 
would prove. {^Readies for his hat.^ 

Nellie. Does the old gray-headed bach, imagine I am pop- 
ping the question ? Well, I should smile ! But I will not become 
the laughing-stock for Nancy and her beau without another strug- 
gle. I must come off victor. (^Alojid.) No, Mr. Jones, you 
can't have your hat till we clear up this little misunderstanding. 
I was informed that you were an old bachelor, and that you had 
neither sister nor niece. I couldn't become yoiir sister or niece; 
but I took a liking for you, and thought if you would adopt me as 
your daughter, and — and — 

ViANYD {gradually breaking into a la-KgJi). What an old fool I 
am, to be sure. {Lai/ghs again.') Well, that's a good one! He! 
he ! ho ! ho ! I shall die ! and you weren't looking after a husband 
at all .? 

Nellie. I after a husband ! Well, I never ! And pray what 
would a mere girl like me do with a husband ? 

David. Why, boss the lucky dog. If he didn't love, honor, and 
obey you, serve him thus. {Takes hold of ^^yaaa'^^s ear.) 

Nellie. I'd a great deal rather boss a good old dad. 

David (s7/iiles). Miss Nellie. 

Nellie. Yes ; that's my name. 

David. Til adopt you. 

Nellie. But, Mr. Jones, have you forgotten how — how — you 
always are at certain times ? Oh, I couldn't think of living with 
you. 

David. Come now, that's too bad ! Why, you must be my 
daughter. Now you wouldn't think it, but I am almost seventy, 
and liable to drop off at any moment with heart disease. I can't 
live long, and then where will my property go to ? 

Nellie. What ! seventy, and still grasping for money ? On 
your way to dig for gold ? 

David. Dig for gold ! Well, I should laugh. I wielding a 
pickaxe and spade! Going to buy up some mining-stock on pur- 
pose to leave you the profits. 

Nellie. But you are such a profane man ! No, Mr. Jones, 
not I. 

David. Who said I was profane.? 

Nellie. I was certainly told so. 

David. Just tell me who the rascal is, and I'll horsewhip him. 

Nellie. Then you drink so ! No, Mr. Jones, no drunkard for 
me. 



20 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

David. What ! I drink so? Who is the slanderer? 

Nellie. Then you have such an outra«:eous temper when 
intoxicated ! No, Mr. Jones, none in mine, if you please. Tea 
and coffee will suffice. You would bring my gray hairs in sorrow 
to the grave. 

David. Oh! I shall go insane! If t were only a playactor, 
how I would lash into high tragedy to-night. Say Richard III. 
or Macbeth. Oh ! give me something to tear ; a handkerchief 
or something that I could rend and tear easy, while I search for my 
vile calumniator, slanderer, backbiter, dastardly villain ! I'm get- 
ting old, but this is too much ; and I believe, yes, I assure you, 
Miss NeUie, that somebody is going to get hurt, I think I may 
say, quite badly bruised, before I'm ten years older. 

Nellie. Please calm yourself, Mr. Jones, while I — 

David. Name the vile wretch. Name him. 

Nellie. Name who ? Why, listen a moment. 

David. Not a day ! — I mean, not a second. Name the base 
slanderer. 

Nellie. Well, if I must out with it, the two first letters of his 
name are David Jones. 

David. Why, what supreme nonsense is this? You don't refer 
to me ? {Gradually breaks into a laugh.) 

Nellie. Was it not you who but a moment ago told me you 
indulged in streams of the purest profanity? that you drank hard? 
was disagreeably cross when drunk? and that — 

David. Oh, come now, can't you see into a joke? 

Nellie. But you were not joking, not a bit of it. 

David {sta?nmers excitedly). But — er — but — er — but — er — 

Nellie. Butter ! Why, that's my boarding mistress's strongest 
point. 

'Day\t> {laughs). Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, that's a good one. Ho! 
ho ! he ! he ! Oh, I shall die. {Laughs till he conifnences coughing ; 
'Nell.je pats him on the back.) That was a capital joke, and you 
were merely paying off an old score. {Aside.) Never kissed any- 
body but my mother in my life, but I have a great mind to break 
the record. A few laps ahead wouldn't be bad. Bo — hoo — hoo 
— Who's afraid ? By all that is lovely, here goes. One kiss, or I 
perish in the attempt. {Takes Nellie's hands, and is about to kiss 
her, when Miner enters.) 

Miner. Oh, don't mind me. I have not only not noticed any- 
thing that is going on, but I have not the slightest suspicion of 
anything that is going on. I'm nearly deaf, and as for my eyes, 
they can't distinguish a little smack from a seventy-four gun, ship. 
Good-evening ; I'm off. {Exit.) 

David. Good riddance ! Why, I shall murder that fellow 
before I'm ninety. But now for that buss — Excuse me, I mean 
a — a — 

(David looks around to see if the coast is clear, when re-enter 
Miner ; Nellie sees hi?n a?td runs off; Miner takes her 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 21 

place, and David embraces /lim and is about to kiss him when he 
discovers his 7nistake. Business. Miner laughs, while David is 
disgusted, but gradually breaks into a fit of laughing. Exeunt 
both; as enter Polly Mills; short dress, soft hat with feather ; 
also gun, hatchet in belt, ga^ne bag at her side.) 

Polly. Knocked seventeen miles and two laps. No answer. 
Enter Polly Mills ; and here I am. Where can my chum, Molly 
Brown, have wandered to? Fired seven times to attract her 
notice, and no response from Molly. Well, never mind, she'll see 
the signs and follow; or, if not, Pll follow her in the morning. I 
wonder what kind of a hotel this is. I'm not particularly pleased 
with the appearance of things. But here's my gun, tomahawk, and, 
best of all, Polly Mills. Oh, yes, I'm here. I'm right here. It's a 
singular fact that when I'm in any particular place, I'm almost inva- 
riably there ; and some people are apt to find it out, if there's any 
occasion to let some people know. And yet Molly and I are 
about the mildest ladies that ever wore ladies' boots. Molly and I 
must have lost our reckoning when we shot those wild turkeys ; 
and she must have run off, chasing after that turkey gobbler. This 
must be ten miles from our home. But hark ! hush ! Sh-h-h ! I 
hear steps and men's voices. I'll just hide behind this, and watch 
and listen. {Conceals herself.) 

{Enter Abner and Conrad.) 

Conrad. Well, well, well, suppose I am smitien with that 
pretty huntress, and all over at first sight, what of it ? Have you 
so soon forgotten all about your own sudden passion for Kitty 
Mason? A passion so foolish, so wild, so silly, so perfectly insane, 
that were it any other man on earth, I should leave him to his folly 
and his sure destruction for his most horrible crime. But we have 
sworn to stand by each other through thick and thin, and although 
you are the champion idiot in love, I have not thought of swerving. 
And yet you prepare to desert me before a shot is fired. However, 
seeing that you are both traitor and coward, let's quit, call it square, 
and have done with all truces. 

Abner. What under heaven are you talking about ? You know 
that I'm neither truce-breaker nor coward. I haven't shown the 
white feather yet. While I do not mean to throw my life away, did 
you not find me standing my ground ? What you term cowardice 
was simply my desire not to harm that dude more than we were 
obliged to. You are no braver than I, but merely more foolhardy 
in your greater defiance of the law. Now understand, once for all, 
that I'm not particularly in love ; but she refused me and humbled 
me, and I will, I must, turn the tables and humble her. Truce- 
breaker ? Never ! If you must have this pretty huntress, say so, 
and I'll aid you to the extent of my power. 

Conrad. Forgive me^ for I'm not myself, but in love. The 
thought of my lost sister prevents me from insulting a lady, except 



22 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

to redeem my promise to you. But you should have wed my sis- 
ter ; for she loved you dearly, and looked sufficiently like Kitty to 
be her twin sister. And I wonder that the fond remembrance of 
your lost sister will even allow you to seriously entertain the idea 
of abducting a lady. I would not have believed you could. Had I 
been in your place, I should have murdered that dude ; but when it 
comes to women, nothing but our mutual oaths to each other per- 
mits me to assist in your dastardly love affair ; understand that. 
But that charming fairy of a huntress must have passed this way. 
I'm rather bashful, generally speaking ; but this is a case of life and 
death. I'm smitten to the very heart's core. I wonder who and 
what she can be. I'll stop here and reconnoitre. {Exit Abner.) 

Polly {looks cautiojisly from her place of concealment) . Oh, that 
is the little game, is it ? I'm the game, am I ? I'm to be brought 
down by a few arrows from the bow of Cupid. Well, I like that. 
I'm his gazelle — no, his dear deer. Dear me, what fools these 
mortals of the male gender be ! Lords of creation ! Stronger sex ! 
We are all turtle-doves, are we? Young man, did it ever occur to 
you that there are such things as eagles' nests ? Well, you have 
dropped into an eagle's eyrie this time. Oh, I'll teach you to fall in 
love with Polly Mills. It will take about five minutes to take the 
conceit out of you. Eagles have talons, and they don't always 
wear kid gloves. 

(Polly steps out a?id Conrad turns and discovers her.) 

Conrad {aside). The very huntress herself {Aloud.) Good- 
evening, Miss ; may I ask your name 1 My name is Brown, and 
entirely at your service. 

Polly. You may address me as Miss Polly, if you please. Are 
you the host 1 

Conrad. No ; Miss Catherine Mason is the owner of this 
dwelling. I'm merely a guest, like yourself 

Polly. I had hoped that you were the host ; for, judging from 
your manner and appearance, I should count on the very best 
accommodations the house affords. {Aside.) There is tafiy spread 
on thick ; and now well see how it takes. 

Conrad {aside). That's not bad to take. Conrad, you are all 
right. Go in and win. {Aloud.) It gives me the liveliest pleas- 
ure, I assure you, to have gained your good opinion at first sight. 
I should be one of the happiest of men did I not fear you were 
somewhat given to flattery. 

Polly. Flattery ! I don't even quite comprehend the meaning 
of the word flattery, I assure you. I took you for a gentleman, and 
my opinions are not easily changed. 

'Qo^WkYi {aside). Rustic beauty ! Simplicity in petticoats ! Per- 
fectly unsophisticated lass ! Innocent of all guile ! Ah, perfect 
treasure ! Here goes. {Alojid.) Miss Polly, I have taken a great 
fancy for you, and I hope you are not offended at my frankness in 
telling you so. You are as beautiful as the fairest prairie or forest 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 23 

flower, and I doubt not your young heart is as beautiful and pure as 
your face is lovely. I hope you are not offended. 

Polly. Offended! Offended at what? Soft solder, as my 
friend Mollie terms it, is due our sex. But I trust you are merely 
uttering your honest sentiments ; and if so, make yourself easy on 
that score. {Aside.) Tally all around. He's good-looking, but 
he can't shine here. 

Conrad. Please, Miss Polly, will you be seated .? I have a few 
words I would like to say to you. (^Both take seats.) 

Polly. Why, those are the very words Abijah Comstock used 
when he was about to pop the question. 

Conrad. And did you accept him ? 

Polly. Accept Abijah Comstock ? Why, I wouldn't marry 
Abijah Comstock if he lay dead on our door-step. Abijah was a 
very good-looking and a very nice young man. I rather liked 
Abijah also ; but do you know we ladies are not obliged to marry 
everybody we like ? 

CoNKAD. But suppose that a man you liked very much could 
not live without you. 

Polly. Oh, that's what they all say ; but I've refused — let me 
see — Abijah, Benjamin, Charley, Daniel, Ezekiel, Fred, Goodwin, 
and — and — 1 believe that's all so far. They come along so fast 
that I can hardly keep run of them. How many did you make? — 
seven? 

Conrad. Yes, that's the number. 

Polly. Well then, you're right ; because seven is the number 
so far as I have got. And not one death yet. All alive and in 
good health. 

Conrad. Well, but. Miss Polly, they could not have loved as I 
love. Please don't refuse me, but take time to think of it; and if 
you have any doubts, give me the benefit of each doubt. I love 
you with all my heart ; and I offer you my heart and hand. 

Polly. Well, you make the eighth offer. I wonder who the 
ninth one will be. But I believe I like you best of all. I must 
own that I think I would accept you if you could be satisfied 
with me ; but I should worry your very life out of you by my tem- 
per. Oh, I'm just raving mad and crazy with passion when I am 
waked up. Now, you just try me. Just call me a good-for-nothing 
trollop, and I'll show you just my style in about two-thirds of a half 
of a spell. 

Conrad. Oh, but I couldn't call you by such a name. 

Polly. But you must, to please me, so I can show you just my 
disposition. 

Conrad. Oh, but I will not, you know. 

Polly {excitedly). What ! you will not? Do you dare cross 
me in that way? 

Conrad. Oh, please don't get angry with me. I mean no harm. 

Polly. Mean no harm ! You are just as mean and hateful as 
you can be. Now, you've just riled me up, and you'd better not, 



24 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

and don't you forget it. Why, when I get waked up, I rave, I tear, 
I scream, I yell, I strike, I box, I cuff, I almost tomahawk (raising 
her hatchet) a man — I — I — 

Conrad {Ju/npirig up). Well, don't tomahawk me. 

Polly. But I must if you cross me, you know. When we 
marry I must always have my own way. Do you hear ? 

Conrad. Oh, yes ; you needn't scream so ; I hear. 

Polly. And will you always do just what I tell you ? 

Conrad. Of course I will, and more too. I always intended to ; 
of course I did. 

Polly. True's you live and breathe ? 

Conrad. Yes; true's I'm a live man. {Aside.) I wonder how 
long I should live with such a she- wolf. Rustic beauty! Un- 
sophisticated innocence, in a horn. Simplicity personified with a 
vengeance. 

Polly. Well, what are ye muttering to yourself? 

Conrad. Oh, nothing only a little funny — funny — 

Polly. Funny ! Just show me anything funny ! 

Conrad. Oh, not at all ; nothing funny, I assure you. I never 
saw anything with less fun in it. {Attempts to go away j but 
Polly takes him by the ear and leads him to a seat^ 

Polly. Trying to run away, are you, just like all the other seven? 
Now look me right in the face. 

{A good deal of business during several speeches.) 

Conrad. Oh, certainly, certainly. 

Polly. Come, come, you're dodging, and you're eyes are wan- 
dering all over the room. Look me right in the face. Do you 
wish to marry me? 

Conrad. Oh, certainly I do. I couldn't live without you. 

Polly. Shut up, I say. Don't put in any extras, but answer my 
questions. Where are your eyes? Now straight in the face ! You 
mean business? 

Conrad. Yes, I mean anything you want. 

Polly. Honor bright? Next Sunday you marry me? 

Conrad. Honor bright. Next Sunday. 

Polly. Then it's a bargain. Now let us have your whole name. 
Come, be quick about it. 

Conrad. Conrad Brown of Sterling village. State of— Why, 
what is the matter? You're pale as death. 

Polly, Were you a chum of — of — Abner Mills? 

Conrad. I not only was, but I am. Blast me, if the little she- 
wolf hasn't fainted dead away. {Fans her in a very awkward, ex- 
cited fnanner.) Coming to? Well, that's right. What's the 
matter? 

Polly. Then you wasn't drowned with my brother in Lake 
Michigan? 

Conrad. Not much ; but who are you? 

Polly. Polly Mills, sister of Abner Mills. Why, how pale 
you are! Don't faint. {They grasp each other's hands.) 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 25 

Conrad. Not I. And you are not drowned either? 
Polly. I drowned? 

Conrad. No, of course you were not. And did you see my 
poor sister Molly go down? 

Polly. Poor sister go down? She's ahve and well, and but 
for getting astray, would have been with me to-night. But how 
pale you are. 

Conrad. Alive and well! My sweet sister Molly alive and 
well? And I shall see her again? And, Polly? 
Polly. Yes, Conrad. 

Conrad. And are you so changed? If so, don't you think you 
could just change back again, for my sake, and be the good little 
Polly I used to think you was; just the nicest little piece of femi- 
nine gender that ever wore calico? 

Polly. What ! can't see into that joke yet? I shall be obliged 
to give you another lesson. {Raising the hatchet and speak- 
ing louder as she proceeds^ but smiling occasionally .') Must I 
nearly tomahawk you again ? Do you mean to accuse me of chan- 
ging when I haven't changed one particle, but am the same fun-lov- 
ing Polly, who used to play tag and order you round because you 
loved to be ordered round bym.e? Do you hear me? Look me 
right in the face ! Do you hear me ? 

Conrad {putting hand to his ear). Did you whisper to me 
then, or did I hear a small thunder-clap? Ah! I have it! You 
overheard my talk and were getting square with me. Yes ; that's 
it. Well, and I shouldn't wonder at all if you have. {Taking 
Polly by both hands.) Haven't changed a particle, have you? 
And you and I never break our word, do we? 

Polly. Never break our word ! What do you mean ? 
Conrad. Why, you know we are pledged to get married next 
Sunday. Hold, hold now! No interruption; for it's all settled 
for next Sabbath. And fortunately your brother Abner is even 
now in this house — and— and — Well, I never; if the lump of 
goodness has not fainted dead away just as I was on the point of 
trying to kiss her. I mentioned her brother, whom she supposed 
dead, too abruptly. However, here comes in that same old kiss. 
May I kiss -you? Silence gives consent, as the man said who kissed 
the deaf and dumb girl. 

(Conrad is about to kiss Polly wheri Abner enters^ 
Abner. Oh, go ahead, Conrad. Don't mind me ; but while she 
is in a faint improve your opportunity. All is fair in war and love, 
you know. 

Polly {springs from the chair). Abner! my brother Abner! 
You were not drowned ; and I see you once more alive ! 

{They grasp each other by both hands. Business.) 
Abner. What ! my own sister Polly, whom I have mourned as 
dead. Heaven be praised! And just in time to save me from an 
awful crime. 

CURTAIN. 



26 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

ACT III. 

Scene. — Same as Acts I. and II. 

{^Enter Mollie Brown in short dress, soft hat with feathery 
gun, etc.') 

Mollie. Well, here I am at last, as sure as my name is Mollie 
Brown. And where is Polly Mills ? Come, Polly, show yourself. 
Hello ! where are you 1 Saw your signs and followed right here 
and into this house. 

{Enter Abner.) 

Mollie {aside). What ! Abner Mills not drowned ? Yet I saw 
him and my brother go down before my very eyes. But I could not 
mourn ; for it saved him from wedding my rival, Kitty Mason. 
But perhaps they are married and living together in this very 
house. Now, if she could have taken Lionel Forrest and left Ab- 
ner to me ! But no, the course of true love did never yet run 
smooth ; and my jealousy soon informed me of their love for each 
other. But now that fate has thrown us again together, I will 
endeavor to learn the present state of affairs. Fortunately he 
utterly fails to recognize me. But how he stares at me, just as 
though he had lost half his wits ! Let me just get up all my cour- 
age. I wonder how I'd best begin. {She takes a turn across the 
room.) ' 

Abner {aside). Mollie Brown, as I live ! Looks just as she 
used to. I loved her at first sight ; but she always avoided me, 
and I followed in the wake of Kitty to excite her jealousy. But 
the more I followed Kitty the more Molly avoided me, until, dis- 
gusted, I actually fell in love v/ith Kitty herself But Kitty and I 
are done forever. And I would not belieVe it, yet, nevertheless, 
at sight of her, all my old love for Mollie is aroused. She don't 
look like a married woman. She seems intensely interested in me. 
I'll just see how she will conduct herself if I remain sort of pas- 
sive. Ah, I have it ! It's a great misfortune to become hard of 
hearing ; yet I voluntarily become about the deafest man in all 
{naming the place of performance). {Aiond.) Please be seated, 
madam. (Abner ha?ids her a chair which she fakes, and he seats 
himself beside her.) 

Mollie. Thank you. {Aside.) He does know me ; but I'll not 
let him know that 1 so much as mistrust that he does. {Aloud.) 
Do you reside here ? 

Abner. Nothing the matter with my ear ; only I'm a trifle deaf. 
Only a trifle, so don't speak too loud. 

I\l0LLiE {rather loud). Do you live here ? 

Abner. Not the slightest cause for fear. Good, safe place ! 

Mollie. I'll fetch him this time. {Quite loud.) Are you a 
miner or a lumberman .'' 

Abner. Yes, yes ; you've guessed it. Lost my hearing on 
Lake Michigan. Was nearly drowned. {Aside.) She knows 
me; but I'll not let on. 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 2/ 

MOLLIE. What a misfortune ! Poor Abner! how I pity him! 
But love, genuine love, will endure all things. Who could bear 
with his misfortunes except me ? {Loud.) How is your health ? 

Abner. Oh, yes ; some wealth. Enough to support a wife, but 
not extravagantly. 

MOLLIE. That's not a bad hit. Now, Til learn if he is married 
or going to be. {Loud.) Wife and family, I suppose. Married, 
are vou not, and residing here ? 

Abner. Madam, do I look like a married man ? 
• MOLLIE {S77iilmg). Well, he heard that at any rate. {Loud.) 
Do you own this dwelling ? 

Abner {smiling). No, there's no telling, no telling how soon I 
maybe; but I'm' not even engaged yet. {Aside.) That'll bring 
her round, I guess, 

MoLLiE. " The combat deepens. On, ye Brave," etc. The pros- 
pect brightens. When Polly and I lost our heroes, imagining them 
drowned, we agreed never to marry ; but to go out West and spend 
our days farming and hunting. 

Abner {aside). That's interesting. Go on, Mollie ; I can't hear 
a word. 

MOLLIE. But this alters the case quite materially. If he pro- 
poses, why, I accept. If he don't ; why, I'll — I'll keep on farming 
and hunting with Polly. 

Abner {aside). 

" A lady farmer who never had beaux 
Knev; how to wield her ploughs and her hoes. 
As men seemed to prefer others to her, 
She swam with the tide, nor lowered her pride ; 
But sajd, If not a man should propose, 
I've still left my ploughs and my hoes." 

MoLLiE. Yes ; at tne very worst, it is still Polly and I. What 
a prize that Polly is, to be sure ! 

Ab^skr {aside). Yes ; that's Conrad's opinion to a T. (Mollie 
rises; aloud.) Oh, please don't go away yet, for I have something 
in particular I wish to say to you. 

MoLLTE {seatifig herself). The whole room is full of marriage 
proposals. He is about to propose. I see it. I know it. The 
very a'T whispers, pop goes the weasel — I mean, pop goes the 
que'stion. I am strongly impressed with the idea that this apart- 
ment lias recently been the scene of wooing and winning. 

Abner {aside). What a fortunate thing it is to be deaf —some- 
times. {Aloud.) Please excuse me for detaining you ; but I can't 
help asking your advice ; for you so remind me of a Chicago gam- 
bler. 

Mollie. I remind you of a gambler ? 

Abner. Yes; you have such a winning way. But first of all, 
promise me that you will not betray my confidence. 

Mollie. Certainly not ! for as the young lady replied when the 
youth who saw her' home begged for secrecy upon the affair, 



28 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

" Don't be alarmed ; for I am ten times as much ashamed as you 
are." 

Abner. You are sharp. However, anything but a namby- 
pamby wom.an. 

MoLLiE. That's his taste, is it ? Then, I'll give him a few 
doses. {Aloud.) Your wished-for advice reminds me of the 
youth's mustache, which he requested the barber to color. T!ie 
barber glanced at his young customer's upper lip and asked if he 
brought his mustache with him. 

Abner {laughs). Yes ; like the Western territories, extensively 
laid out but thinly settled. But the advice I seek is peculiar, and I 
seem obliged to pursue the course of the tender-hearted Dutchman 
who cut off his dog's tail one incli at a time so that it wouldn't hurt 
him. The fact is I'm after a wife. 

MOLLIE. Whose wife are you after ? 

Abner. Well, you are sharp, any way. But to make a clean 
breast of it, I want a lady too good for me, of course ; but I need 
just such a lady. 

MoLLiE, Do you know such a lady? 

Abner. Know such a baby .'' Why, I don't wish to adopt a. 
baby. 

MOLLIE. Do you know such a lady ? 

Abner (lai^g/img). Know such a lady! Capital joke! Yes; 
I know just such a lady. 

MoLLTE. Well, then, you are not ignorant of a lady's curiosity. 
Describe her. Does she reside near here ? 

Aener. About ten miles distant. She is (Abner describes 
MOLLIE as she appears — dress, hair., eyes, etc., as co?nes most 
easy and natural for hi7/i.) I should h.ave sought her hand years 
ago, but 1 always imagined that she disliked, yes, hated me, and 
for that reason I followed in the wake of another. 

MoLLiE. I'll not attempt to deny that I feel highly flattered and 
greatly honored. But you know the old saying, and it contains a 
world of truth : 

" The happiest life that ever was led 
Is always to court and never to wed." 

Now, as your wife, I should be your slave. As your sweetheart 
you take me to all tlie entertainments, sleigh rides, etc. 

Abner. And as your husband what am I ? After ten hours of 
hard labor I leave off work and go to chopping wood, drawing 
tlie water, and getting in coal, wood, and kindlings. I have a friend 
who is just such a husband. But one of the greatest of all his 
hardships is that his wife so often comes very near calling him 
horey. 

Mollie. How near ? 

Abner. She calls him Old Beeswax. Now, this, like cold pork 
and beans, may do for fifty or sixty meals, but not as a steady diet. 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 



29 



Oh, I tell you, there are two sides to all such questions. But come 
now, be my wife and share my lot as you ou,2^ht years ao-o. 

MOLLIE. Is tliere a good dwelling on your lot ? 

Abner. No ; but I'll build one. Say that you will be my wife 
next Sunday. True, we haven't courted any ; but after our wed- 
ding; we'll sit up every Sunday ni,f,dit till eleven, and we'll live as 
married people should with a couple of nice bears in the house. 

MOLLIE. Two bears ? 

Abner. Yes ; bear and forbear. Come now, before some one 
enters and there is a great gulf between us. We can arrange the 
details after our bethrothal. 

MoLLiE. ^ Why this haste ? You know there is far more music 
and melody in single-blessedness. 

AiiNER, Yes ; but wedded bliss is the most melodious. 

Mollis. Possibly ; yet you know the remark of the fellow run- 
ning from the jail — "Distance lends enchantment to the view." 
Again, 

" As I walked by myself, I talked to myself, 
And myself said unto nie, 
Beware of thyself, take care of thyself, 
For nobody cares for thee." 

Abner. Come, Molly, let us throw aside these masks, for we 
knew each other from the first, I'm a very careful man, and I 
wish the care of you. My love for you is not merely silver 
washed. 

MoLLiE. Then, it must be a gold-plated affection. 

Abner. O Mollie, you're too bad. Come now, have you any- 
thing to say why sentence of a wedding ring and an engage- 
ment kiss should not be pronounced upon you? 

Mollie. Look here, Abner Mills, you are not half as hard of 
hearing as you were. 

Abner. No ; my talk with you has helped my hearing wonder- 
fully. Say that you'll marry me next Sunday, and the faintest 
whisper — P'-^^ .^ will be plenty loud enougli for me to understand 
the whole word. And that is the day on which your brother Con- 
rad and Folly are to be tied up in a 'hard knot. ' Both are in this 
very house, and — Hello ! Whoop ! Fainted ! Broke the news too 
suddenly. P^orgot she thought her brother drowned. 

(Abner is about to take her in his arms to assist her to keep her 
siit nig posture, when, heai'inga noise, he turns to look, dujing which 
time Lionel enters; Mollie sees him and rises to her feet a7id 
steps aside. Lionel takes her place. Abner /«/j his arms around 
him. Business as he discovers his mistake. Lionel S7niles, 
laughs, etc., as he may choose. Abner leads Mollie otit, saying,) 

Abner. You'll hear from me, young man, whoever you are. 
You'll hear from me. 

Lionel. All right ! Thank you. Write or telephone, and let 
us know how you're getting along. {To himself.) Well, here I am 



30 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

alone once more. When they bound me what a horrible face T put 
on as if they were nearly killing me ! And how easily I cleared my- 
self the moment they left. Well, what next? Heard Kitty was 
false. Disguised myself as a live Yankee, and was just in time to 
save her. Well, that was fortunate. Then played the dude and 
saved her the second time. Fortunate again. She's not after 
Abner Mills. But who is she in love with? Well, that's for me to 
find out. This time I'm neither Yankee nor dude, but I've lost all 
my memory by a terrible accident at the mines. I shall not even re- 
member Kitty when we meet. And here she comes. I'm not an 
idiot, but a very simple-minded man. 

(Enter Kitty. Business all through this inte?'view.^ 

Kitty. Why, Lionel, is this really you ? 

Lionel. Yes ; that's my name, I believe ; but I met with a ter- 
rible accident at the — the — mines — yes, the mines. Do you 
know me ? You are very pretty. What is your name ? 

Kitty. I'm Kitty Mason. Don't you remember me? 

Lionel. Kitty Mason, Kitty Mason ? Let me see. No, I don't 
seem to know who you are. Do you live in this great, large house ? 

Kitty {aside). How sad this is! But he shall never leave 
me again. I'll marry him, and he shall have the best of care and 
the most skilful physicians, and I'll have him cured. Poor Lionel, 
I love him more than ever for his misfortune. {Aloud.) Take a 
chair. (Lionel seats hi//iself, aiid Kitty draws a chair close to 
his.) There, you look more comfortable. You say that your mem- 
ory is all gone. Is your health good ? 

Lionel. Oh, yes, my health is excellent; but my eyesight is 
poor. Now. I can see that man over there, but I can't see the man 
right side of him. 

Kitty. Why. what do you mean ? Which man can't you see? 

LiON'KL. That one with black hair and mustache. But I can 
see the next one plain as day. {Of coursCy this description can be 
varied.) 

Kitty. Oh, this is terrible ! But how can you describe the 
man when you can't even see him ? 

Lionel. Well, that's what puzzles me. I spoke to a miner 
about it, and he told me to use glasses. I asked him how many, 
and he said, two, of course. Well, I went right across the street 
and called for two glasses, and I drank both three times full of 
lager beer; but it didn't do a bit of good. Why, do you know 
when I held my hand up, so, I saw two hands instead of one. 
Now, you wouldn't call that any improvement of the eyesight, 
would you ? 

Kitty. No ; certainly not. I wouldn't drink any more such 
stuff if I were you. 

Lionel. Wouldn't you, though ? Well, then, I won't either. 
And I saw a snake when I tried those glasses, only I didn't see any 
snake, you know. 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 3 1 

Kitty. Saw a snake, and didn't see any ; how was that ? 

Lionel. I'll show you. i^Ijuitates dru?iken 7Han.) I was 
'toxicated. Tried to put my hand'chief in my hat, and I put it on 
top — on the rim — just so; and the end hung down right 'fore 
my eyes, so — and when I grabbed at it — so — so — so — ye see 
I was 'cited — thought 'twas a snake going to bite me ; and I 
grabbed ' bout foot ahead — so — so — so — till at last I cau<^ht it 
like this. Nothing but a hand'chief. Knew then I hadn't got the 
jim-jams. See ? 

Kitty. Yes ; I see. And what did you do then } 

Lionel. I'll show you. {Rises and places a chair so that he 
will run against the back. Imitates drunken man and staggers 
tip to chair. ^ Evening shades ! See.? So I thought 'twas a man 
when it was a post ; and I said, " 'Scuse me ; I didn't know you 
were there." Then I stepped back, like this, and started again, like 
this, and went right into the post again, like this ; and 1 said, 
"Please 'scuse me; I thought you had gone." Then I said, 
" Shake hands and call it square," etc. See.^* 

Kitty. You'll never touch such vile stuff again, will you? 

Lionel. No; I never will. You are such a pretty girl that I'll 
sit right down beside you again. Seems to me you are the prettiest 
girl I ever saw. What'd you say your name was? 

Kitty. Kitty Mason. I own this liouse. Wouldn't you like to 
reside here with me? 

Lionel. Now, you don't mean it, do you? 

Kitty. Oh, yes, I do ; for I — I — I — love you — and — 

Lionel. Now, I'm awful bashful, and I shall need a good deal 
of coaxing. Oh, I shouldn't dare to say I loved you, Lm so nervous. 

Kitty. Well, then I'll do the love-making. 

Lionel. What ! are you going to court me? 

Kitty. Yes ; seeing that you have forgotten our engagement, 
I'll do the courting. 

Lionel. Pshaw now, you don't mean to, do you? Why, I feel 
just as skittish as a young colt. Hold on a minute till I take a 
long breath. There now, go ahead before I get fidgety again. 

Kitty {lays her ha^id on his shojilder). I love you I — I — 

Lionel. Hold up till I take another long breath. I'm all of a 
fidget again. There, go ahead once more. 

Kitty {lays her hand on his shoulder again. Lionel looks at 
the hatid) . Yes, I do love you so much, and I offer you my hand 
and my heart. 

Lionel. What ! you want to marry me ? 

Kitty. Yes ; I want to marry you. I want you to marry me, 
and never leave me. 

Lionel. Oh, you will have to ask my pa and ma. 

Kitty. Why, but you haven't any parents. 

Lionel. No, I'm an — an — My memory is all gone. Sup- 
pose you ask my sister. That's just the thing. Don't you think 
so? 



32 IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

Kitty. Oh, but you haven't any sister either. 

Lionel Well, then I must be an orphan. But if I had a sister 
you could ask her just as easy as nothing. I know what to do now. 
Let me see — yes ; ask my sister's brother. 

Kitty. Well, but your sister's brother would be you. 

Lionel. Would it though? Well, I don't know what you will 
do unless you ask me over again. Hold on then, till I take two or 
three long breaths. Oh, I'm awful skittish. But you are just the 
nicest, prettiest girl that I ever went anywhere a-fishing ! And if 
I'm not too fidgety I will say yes. 

( Piits his forefijiger agamst her a?-m or side and laughs.) 

Kitty. Now listen to me. Look right at me. Before that ac- 
cident you and I were engaged to be married. We loved each 
other with all our hearts. It was my first love, and my last. I 
never so much as thought of any one but you. And understand 
that we are engaged now. I will not let you go. You must never, 
no, never leave me. Can't you see that you are the one to ask me 1 
Come now, rouse yourself ; ask me, and I'll marry you next Sunday. 

Lionel. What! you were never false for one moment? 

Kitty {rises to her feet, her whole manner cha?igedas well as his). 
Lionel Forrest ! have you dared to doubt me for so much as a sin- 
gle moment? And you have also dared ; yes, dared, to test Cath- 
erine Mason through this silly masquerade ! When I was twice 
told that you were false, there was no other feeling save emphatic 
indignation at the slander. Yet you, yes, you, Lionel Forrest, you! 
you — 

{Enter arm in arm, or othe?'wise, Abner and Mollie, Conrad 
^wrt' Polly, Miner ^//^Nancy, ««</ David and Nellie.) 

Lionel. Now, now, nov/! Kitty, Kitty, Kitty ! — 

Kitty. Kitty. Kilty, Kitty ! Am I a kitten to come and go 
at your beck and call ? Out of my sight ! Away with you ! 

Lionel. Nov/ don't, don't, don't ! please don't ! Why, just look 
here a moment. I — I — 

Kitty. That's just where I am looking. O Lionel, Lionel, that 
it should ever come to this ! 

Lionel. Listen at least to my explanation. I entreat it only 
this once. Please listen. 

Kitty. No ! after such conduct I will not listen to you. 

Abner. Hold on then, and listen to me, To-morrow is Sun- 
day ; and there are three couples of us going to be married that 
afternoon. David Jones and his adopted daughter will stand up 
with us ; and how can we leave you out? Why, it's utterly impos- 
sible. Of course you don't wish to get left. Again, we can't wind 
up this play unless you make up. I sincerely beg your pardon, 
Miss Mason ; and I shall not believe, because I cannot believe, 
that you really and truly do forgive my serious offences unless you 
and Lionel join in the wedding bells. 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 



33 



Kitty. Yes, I do forgive you freely and fully, and especially 
seeing that you and Mollie have come to an understanding just as 
you should have done years ago. Allow me to compliment and 
congratulate you both. 

MoLLiE. But I reject your compliments, and I will not recog- 
nize your congratulations except on condition that you forgive 
Lionel — forgive him with all your heart. Nay, you sliall no^ be 
welcome at our wedding on Sunday unless you acknowledge your 
old lover as your betrothed husband. And last, but not least, I 
will not suffer Abner to accept your pardon unless you reinstate 
Lionel in your good graces. 

Kitty. Why, Mollie, are you aware of the fact that you are 
addressing such language to one of your best friends.'* 

MoLLiE. Most certainly I am. And, furthermore, you have no 
right to complain since you address worse language to the best of 
2i\\your friends. 

Abner. I am anxious, yes, very anxious, for your forgiveness; 
but I believe that Mollie is right. 

Polly. Yes, just right, except that her words are not half for- 
cible enough. Kitty Mason, if you refuse to make up with Lionel 
Forrest, Conrad and I will never darken your doors again, and we 
will not suffer you to enter our house. {Raising her hatchet.) 
Isn't that so, Conrad? 

Conrad. Of course, it is. Polly shall tomahawk you. And if 
you ever ask of us the slightest favor, we shall give you this eva- 
sive reply: See you hung first. And now a word of advice : 
to use an Oriental phrase, translated from the original Greek,, The 
sooner you cave in the better. 

Kitty. But I never will ! Never ! never ! 

Conrad. Well, hardly ever. It comes hard for me to address 
such language to a lady, especially to one I have held in such high 
esteem from my boyhood ; but, like the old priest's prayers for the 
sterile farm lands, our most earnest petitions are of no avail here. 
Nothing less than forty cords to the acre of heavy, plain words 
will produce a decent crop. Why, Miss Mason, should God mark 
one-thousandth part of our sins, who could stand? Yet you con- 
demn your best friend for his first offence. An obstinate man is 
bad enough ; but from a mulish woman Heaven defend and pre- 
serve us all. 

Polly. And so say we all of us. With the change of a word 
n certain passage of Scripture, just describes you : "And she spake 
unto her friends saying, saddle me a mule ; and they saddled /z^r." 
Oh, you'll find that we give no peace to the wicked. We shall tor- 
ment you day and night so long as you bear the mark of beastly 
ingratitude in your conduct towards Lionel. 

Kitty. Am I to be insulted in this manner in my own house ? 
I tell you I don't like such language. 

Nancy. Then lump it. Remember the words of the prophet 
Nicodemus : " Grin and bear it." Comfort yourself with these con- 



34 • IN THE NICK OF TIME. 

soling words. Well, I did think you had just a little common 
sense. But I suppose you expect to be exceedingly joyous and 
happy in your present frame of mind. And you most surely will 
when you succeed in warming your hands and feet by the moon. 

Miner. Yes, it's simply moonshine diluted with some very 
thin starlight. And your happiness, your great joy, will resemble 
Obadiah Oldbuck's big fortune — had ten thousand dollars' worth 
of old second-hand flour barrels without any heads. The happi- 
ness you are seeking for is like a stunted cabbage : never comes 
to a head. To make use of a famihar Latin quotation, " It's like a 
colored baby — great cry and little wool." 

Kitty. What ! both you and Nancy turn against me ? 

Nancy. Yes ! you've turned the whole tide ; for you seem de- 
termined to forfeit all claim to our friendship. Of what can you 
possibly be thinking ? Reject Lionel for merely testing your sin- 
cerity! And does it so frighten you to have your love tested ? Is 
your course in this respect wise ? 

Miner. No, its otherwise. She turns her back upon all that is 
wise and joins the otherwise people. Why, David Jones will tell 
you that much, Come, Jones, a little chin music from you. Ad- 
vice is cheap. Plenty of it, you know. In the language of Wash- 
ington when he crossed the Deleware, "Wade in !^' 

David. I don't wonder that he surprised the Hessians by that 
remark. But I've no advice to throw away. To quote an old 
Roman maxim, "Against stupidity the gods themselves are power- 
less." But perhaps not against the goddesses. Nellie, if you choose 
to say a few words, I'm agreeable. 

Nellie. And I do choose to speak. Kitty Mason, if you know 
what's best for yourself, you will marry Lionel Forrest next Sun- 
day. If you don't, we'll make up faces at you, and instead of Kitty, 
Kitty, Kitty ! we shall say scat, scat, scat ! just as we scare away 
any other old cat. You're no longer our Kitty ! You're a cross old 
cat. I'd be ashamed of myself to act like you. I wouldn't show 
my face. I'd tie up my head in a meal bag; so there! After 
Lionel has disguised himself as Soloman Stokes and Orlando 
Augustus, and twice saved you, you haven't sufficient gratitude to 
forgive him. I'm so glad I've found a good old dad ; and I'll not 
live with you another day. You're a cross, hateful old thing! and 
it is you who need forgiveness and not Lionel. He's too good for 
you. 

Kitty. So you are, Lionel : you were always too good for me ; 
and it is I who need to ask forgiveness. 

Lionel. No, no ! Kitty, I protest against that ; and I'll never 
doubt you again. 

Kitty. But I knew not that you were twice my preserver. 

Lionel. Why, who else should it be ? 

Kitty. Yes, who else could it possibly be except you ? 

Nellie. You ain't a cross old cat, are you .'' You're our good 
pet Kitty ; and you're to be married next Sunday. And {(o David) 
we will stay with her another day, will we not ? 



IN THE NICK OF TIME. 35 

David. Yes ; she's a perfect jew's-harp. 

Conrad. And isn't it jolly though .'' — Four weddings to-mor- 
row ! And Miss Mason is going to have a lion and add an L to her 
house. 

Polly. A lion and an L ? 

Conrad. Yes ; Lion — L. 

Polly. Oh ! 

Miner. Oh, I tell you, it'll be just splendid'! She'll have any 
quantity of timber to sell — a whole forest all to herself. 

Nancy. A forest ? 

Miner. Yes; Lionel Forrest. He'll get sold, of course. 

Molly. And then it's nice to have money ! And Lionel must 
have plenty, for he has already engaged a mason to see to the 
house. 

Abner. a mason to see to the house ? 

Molly. Yes ; Kitty Mason. 

Abner. Oh, get out with your conundrums ! Let's wind up this 
play. Now that all the bad are made good, and Lionel and Kitty 
have made up, and all the lost are found, and some of us have found 
each other and are going to be married next Sunday, we give you 
all a very cordial invitation to attend the quadruple wedding at 

the Church, on Street. The ceremony will be performed 

by the Rev. Mr. Come, Lionel, a concluding word from you. 

Lionel. Ladies and gentlemen, I sincerely pity all those poor, 
benighted heathen who have been deprived of the privilege of 
witnessing this performance. But to accommodate it will be re- 
peated on {jiaming the evening, or '' at sojiie future evening''''). 
On that occasion the performance will be given free of charge; but 
a small collection of {^namijig price of admission) cents will be 
taken at the door or by the ticket-seller. 

Positio7i of Characters at Close. 

Miner and Nancy, David and Nellie, Lionel and Kitty, 
Abner and Mollie, Conrad and Polly. 

CURTAIN. 



ANOTHER "COUNTRY SCHOOL." 



THE OLD-FASHIONED 

HUSKING BEE. 

AN OLD FOLKS ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE. 



By NETTIE H. PELHAM. 



For eleven male and five female characters, and as many more as desired. 
Scene, the interior of a barn, easily arranged ; costumes, old fashioned. Plays 
forty minutes or more, according to number of songs and specialties introduced. 
Very easy to get up, and very funny. An excellent introduction for a dance, 
supper or sociable, where a mixed entertainment is desired. 
Price, . . . . 15 Cents. 

SVNOF»SIS: 
SCENE. — Uncle Nathan's barn. Bobby and Scipio. In black and -white. A 
few conundrums. " Silence am gold." Gathering of the neighbors. INlusic 
and fun. Thomas Jefferson is heard from. " Von leedle song," by Solomon 
Levi. Betsy and Josiah. A leap-year courtship. Algernon Fitznoodle and 
Little Lord Fauntleroy. The dude and the darling. Fitznoodle takes a 
tumble. Patrick and Ah Sin. Race prejudices. Harmony out of discord. 
INIusic. Betsy and the swing. A little mistake. Betsy recites. Tue 
HUMANI1>U0>'E. Pat and Kitty. The red ear. " Hurrah for supper ! " 



A DOUBLE SHUFFLE 



J^ COIVEEID-X- I3Nr OliTE -A.CT. 



By HARRY O. HANLON. 



Three male and two female characters. Scenery and costumes very simple. 
An admirable little parlor piece, playing about thirty-five minutes. Fred 
Somers, a collegian, with a taste for practical joking, tries to play a little joke 
on his sister and his fiancee, but they succeed in turning the tables completely 
upon him and his two college chums. Very bright and amusing. A sure hit. 

Price, .... 15 Cents. 






A NEW PLAY FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS. 

A Compaition to "REBECCA'S TRIUMPH." 

ANITA'S TRIAL; 

Or, Our Girls in Camp. 

By Esther B. Tiffany, author of "A Rice Pudding/' "That Patrick," 

" Young Mr. Pritchard," etc. 

Price, ------- J55 cents. 

This is a bright and sparkling comedy in three acts, for eleven 
female characters. Its story is entertaining, and its dialogue dis- 
tinguished by this author's delicate humorous touch. One scene only 
is necessary for the three acts — a camp in the woods, easily arranged. 
The dresses are simple and picturesque camping eostumes. The enor- 
mous success of " Rebecca's Triumph " lias created a demand for this 
sort of piece, to meet which we confidently present "Anita's Trial," 
in which is solved, with no less success than in its predecessor, the 
difficult problein of constructing a play of strong human interest with- 
out the assistance of male characters. 



The G HRONQTHANflTOLETRO N: 

OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. 

An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class Day 
Exercises at Dana Hall .School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members 
of the Class of '87 and first performed before members of the school 
and their friends, June 18, 1887, and later at Ellsworth, Maine, 
April 6, 1888. 

Price, 35 cents. 



THE PEAK SISTERS. 

A humorous entertainment for young ladies. Arranged by Mary B. 
HoRNE. Any number of ladies may take part, but seven only are 
necessary. No scenery; costumes very simple. This laughable 
trifle meets with invariable success wherever performed. 
I*rice, 15 cents. 



THE BOOK OF DRILLS. 

A ^roup of entertainments for female characters for stage or floor per- 
formance, by Mary B. Horne, the author of *' The Pe;ak Sisters," etc. 

Price, -------30 cents. 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO, PniJllsliers, 23 Winter St, Boston 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 863 489 2 



AN ENTIRE NOVELTY. 



HE GREAT MORAL 

Dime Show 



AN ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE. 



By MARY B. HORNE, 

Author of "The Peak Sisters," Prof. Baxter's Great Ixvkntiox, 

"The Book of Drills," "The Carnival of Days," 

"Plantation Bitters," Etc. 



Nine male, seven female characte»-s. Costumes simple; scenery an ordinary 
interior, or may be dispensed with altogether. Plays from half an hour upward, 
according to the number and character of additional ppecialties introduced. 
Printed exactly as first performed by the Unity Club, Wateriowu, Mas;*., on 
Friday evening, February 5, 1892. 



This most amusing entertainment is a burlesque of the ordinary "dime- 
museum," 'so-called, but is entirely devoid of the vulgarity of its original, and 
perfectly atlapted to church or home performance. The characters are, save the 
lecturer and her absistant, a wonderful collection of "freaks" of nature (some- 
wJiat assisted by art) who sing, dance or i-ecite, acconling to their special 
abilities, in illustration of the explanatory lectu-e. It is most elastic in its 
requirements, can be played on any stage or platform, with or without scenery, 
and with a greater or smaller number of characters, according to ttiste or. 
necessity. It can be made uproariously funny, and is in character as well as fact 

A SEQUEL TO THE PEAK SISTERS. 



Price, 



15 Cents. 



SCENE.— The exhibition hall of Sister Ke/iah's Show. Sister Keziah's intro- 
ductory lecture. Johnathan, the bashful assistant. Introductory hymn. 
Introduction of the "freaks." Daniel McGinty redivivus. Daniel's song 
LiiciA ZvRATE, the celebrated Mexican tlwarf. Kioto, the shortest man 
alive, not jiuaiicialiy. The wonderful Mku.maid. The Mermaid's song. 
CAS81US White, the ossified boy. A "rocky" recitation, Kalli-lu, the 
only specimen of his kind in captivity; illustrated by cuts. Signor GaLassi, 
the celebrated Glass Eater. Galassi'sings. Allegro PENsJiROSO, the won- 
derful two-headed girl; not to be confounded with the more common two- 
faced girl. Two ways of eating a pickle. Ida and Ione. the Grecian 
maidens. Raphael Tintoret, the blimi painter, who paints blinds in full 
view of the audie-.ce. Ah Chin and Wu.v Lung, the Chinese twins, ex- 
tremely well connected from birth. " The Land of Tea." Ka-foozle-kim, 
the Turkish vocalist. Grand finale and curtain. 



inn 

015 



Hollii 
P 



A 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 

iPi 

015 863 489 2 ^ 



